The Invisible
by MissWitch250
Summary: Gar Logan has the perfect life. Good grades, great friends, and an almost perfect girlfriend. Rachel has none of that, and in her jealousy, does something unforgivable, that only she can set right. Based on the movie. BB/Rae REVIEW! rated just in case!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I know what some of you MUST be thinking. How lame. Am I just copying the plot of The Invisible with Teen Titans as the main characters? well, kinda. But I am adding my own touches! (for any of my Titanic/X-men fans out there, yeah. Same deal, different movie). So I really, really, REALLY hope that you love this crappy story, and the fact that I'm trying something different from my other stories. Yeah, that's right, I'm gonna try to make this story about 60 000 words long! Sorry, not a lot of talking in the first chapter (as is the same for most of my stories :(...)

I own nothing!

"Gar'' Logan is the good guy. He has his friends (below average popularity), his girlfriend (above average), and his foster parents, who have high expectations from him.

Rachel Roth is different. She has no friends. Her boyfriend is a low life criminal. And every night she risks her life for her sister.

* * *

><p>Rachel Roth ignored the noise of the school cafeteria. It was lunchtime, and the large room was filled with students. They chatted together, they laughed with each other, several were finishing up late homework, and Rachel was ignoring all of them as she slipped away into deep thought. In her corner of the cafeteria, she was alone. Nobody sat at her table, and it was rare for a person, even the janitor, to walk by her. Her presence seemed to scream "back away, and stay there", and if someone was ignorant of the death vibes around her, she was quick to send them away with a harsh word or glare. So Rachel was left alone to think and brood, as she liked it.<p>

_"The necklace alone would bring in $1500, _if_ we take it to Rancid, and even then we'd have to wait a week for the heat to wear off... The diamonds won't get us much around here, maybe $800... and the car's trash, parts for sale... He's not gonna like this..."_

The small teenager snarled, and hardly noticed as she gripped the mug in her hands tighter. Normally the aroma of hot tea kept her mind grounded, but not today, she was too preoccupied to keep her thoughts under control. Slouched down in her chair, hood of her dark jacket up, she was largely unnoticed by her fellow classmates, and that was how she preferred it. Her hoodie was perfect for hiding the oddities of her appearance. Purple hair, matching eyes, and skin so pale under shade she looked gray, Rachel herself was an oddity, and she hated staring eyes.

Loud laughter shot through Rachel's concentration, and the mug of tea went flying from her hands as the strange teenager jumped in surprise. Almost instantly, Rachel's thick, gray hoodie was soaked with the brown beverage, and even through the fabric, she could feel the burning liquid. Seconds later, the crash of porcelain breaking told her that her favorite mug was beyond repair, and one area of the cafeteria went silent.

Rachel stood up from her seat, the front of her hoodie, and most likely her shirt as well, drenched. From under her hood, purple eyes searched the masses of students, and quickly locked on target: Tara Markov. Amethyst orbs glared at sapphire, and Rachel fought the urge to run up and throttle the blond haired girl. Beside Tara, a blond haired boy rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and mouthed 'sorry'.

The violet haired girl gave no response. Instead, she turned to gather up her books into a worn, and almost threadbare backpack, every other second spent looking up to glare at the blond and his small group of friends. She recognized them all, and sneered in annoyance. Rachel had a class with every one of them, but it didn't make much difference. She ignored them, and they carried on with their lives.

Shouldering her backpack, Rachel left the cafeteria, not bothering to give a last look back at the happy group of friends. She wouldn't give Tara the satisfaction of knowing her embarrassment, especially when Rachel knew that the blond vixen had witnessed the entire scene with a smile on her face. Without a single word, she left the cafeteria, and even with her back turned, she heard what was said behind her back.

_"Holy crap. What a bitch, eh Logan?"_ Rachel sneered, though nobody could see, and walked on, head bent low her hide her face. She had been called worse in second grade. At sixteen, Rachel was numb to the names, and when a student suddenly got very brave (or extremely stupid), and a rotten fruit was thrown her way, the violet haired darkling was quick to retaliate. They didn't always hit her, but she never missed.

Halfway down the hallway lined with red lockers, she stopped, and dropped the heavy sack down before lowering herself to her knees. Her locker was on the second row. Facial expression still lacking emotion, Rachel was quick to open her locker, and dig around inside. It was an organized mess. Old books with pages filled with dust occupied most of what little space there was given, and they were stacked on two pairs of baggy jeans and an old vest. Rachel sneered again as she glanced at the old articles of clothing.

Her closet at home consisted of mostly the same things; Jeans at least four sizes too large for her; t-shirts which were too small; and a worn, zip-up hoodie. The pants used to be her fathers, a man too cheap to give his only child clothing bought from a store. Rachel had to wear a thick, leather belt (luckily, her father's from when he was younger, and thinner) just to keep the heavy clothing from falling. Her shirts, however, came from her Mother's closet. The older woman was frail and thin, and her clothing stuck to Rachel like a second skin. Not something the dark teenager would like to be seen in, but it was better than nothing. The hoodie, fortunately, was her own, bought with what little money she could salvage. Cash was hard to obtain, and even harder to keep.

Pulling off the drenched hoodie, Rachel examined her shirt. Blue, long sleeved, and skin tight, it wasn't something she would normally wear. Her chest was larger than her mother's, so the normally decent v-neck collar showed more than what was necessary, but she considered herself lucky. If her shirt had ended up wet, she wouldn't have been impressed. Walking around in a vest too many sizes too small did not seem appealing to her, therefore, the blue shirt of her mother's would have to do.

Rachel reached into the back of the locker, behind the books, and grabbed a hidden box. It was a present. Wrapped in pink paper, and tied with a white bow, the medium sized box didn't look like it should be in the possession of the dark teen, but Rachel smiled at the gift. On a white square on the box, it said _'to Melvin'_. It was a birthday present for a little sibling.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" A voice echoed in the hallway, and Rachel clenched her jaw. People really needed to stop disrupting her thoughts.

"I'm putting a box into my bag, what does it look like I'm doing?" The violet haired teenager responded in a flat monotone, and Rachel stared up at one of the three vice principals of the school. Tall, bent, and old, Mr. Blud was one of the creepiest teachers in the school, and many rumors flew around the school of him, cults, and an alias of 'Brother Blood'.

"Well Missy, pink doesn't seem to be your colour" Mr. Blud took a small pause as Rachel glared up at him. She didn't trust the old man, something seemed off about him, and it wasn't just that he called her "Missy". "Give me the box, and I won't report you, Miss Roth. You know how hard this school works to keep drugs out." His voice was smooth, and Rachel fought to keep her emotion from her face. She was used to the rumors and whispers about her, and she knew that she looked like a druggie, but she never touched the stuff, it was beneath her.

"It's my personal property, you have no right to take it, and no proof that it contains drugs." Rachel responded calmly, but inside, she was snarling.

Without a word, Blud snatched the package from her loose hands, and Rachel stood up in a flash, her self control slipping. The lightest of pink flushed her cheeks in her anger, and Blud examined the pink present. Shaking it twice, and then tapping it, Rachel hoped that he was done. Her hoped were dashed, however, when the crooked old man ripped off the expensive pink wrapping to reveal a cheap brown cardboard box. Practically ripping open the box, Blud held up the contents. An old and worn, brown, stuffed bear; and a card.

_"I found him for you last week, sorry he's late for your birthday... _

_I couldn't bring him to you in time..._

_He can protect you when I'm not there..._

_His name's Bobby._

_I love you Mel, and so does Mom, where ever she is._

_Rave."_

Rachel had found the patched and old bear at a second hand store, and immediately thought of the little blond girl at home. It hadn't cost her much, and she knew that if he broke, she could easily fix him. But now she worried for the small, child's toy.

Blud stared at the bear, and sneered.

"How sentimental. However, I wouldn't put it past a delinquent as yourself to go past certain boundaries." The old man grabbed the bear at both sides of it's head, right under the ears, and pulled. The sound of ripping fabric was heard, and Rachel watched in horror and fury as the toy was torn in two. Cotton stuffing floated to the ground, and Blud's fingers raided the stuffed bear's remains. It took only moments, and the ground by his feet was covered in white fluff, ''Bobby'' becoming nothing more than a bear skin.

With a frustrated grunt, Blud flung teddy bear that no longer looked like a teddy bear to the tiled floor. He had found no drugs, just as Rachel knew he wouldn't, and the plum haired darkling knelt down to collect what was left of her little sister's present. She ignored Blud's retreating footsteps as she fingered the two limp remains of what used to be "Bobby".

with a sneer and a sigh, Rachel pocketed the two halves of the late stuffed bear, and stood up just as the end of lunch bell rang. Leaning over to grab her backpack and stuffing her wet hoodie inside it, Rachel straightened her self up before kicked the small pile of stuffing as went on her way. The grungy teenager wouldn't have enough money to rewrap the poor thing after she had it repaired. Shouldering her backpack once more, Rachel made her way to the deserted girl's washroom, the halls filling up with the mass of students. Pushing, yelling, and brainless students.

* * *

><p>"Holy crap. what a bitch, eh Logan?" The blond muttered to Gar, a sneer clear on her beautiful face. Tara was everything an awkward boy could ask for in a girlfriend. She was attractive, with her slim body and big blue eyes; her sense of humor was flawless, she even laughed at Gar's corny jokes; and she got along with everyone. The blond socialite was nice and friendly to Gar's group of minor social outcasts, but at the same time, she had her own group of popular diva-friends. Kitten Moth, a rich little daddy's girl; and Connie, Kori Ander's older sister.<p>

"She's in my English class... She's really smart." Gar muttered, watching with mild interest as the girl clothed in gray stalked off in a huff, and Tara scoffed beside him.

"She's all brains but no personality, Logan. Forget about her." Gar barely noticed as his girlfriend gave him a small peck on the cheek, a farewell kiss, and left for the popular table of the cafeteria. There, the beautiful blond chatted with Kitten and Connie, her mouth in a slight sneer as she gossiped (maliciously, Gar knew) about the majority of Jump High. Gar turned his attention back to his friends with a smile. It was strange that they were all friends, so different from each other as they were.

There were nine of them in all. Dick Grayson, at 17, he was one of Jump High's many teenage heart throbs. He was a trouble maker, and had crossed paths with Rachel Roth more than once. It never ended well, one always beating the other. But it didn't matter. Athletic, with jet black hair and eyes rumored to be icy blue (nobody knew for certain, since Dick never took off his sunglasses) he was the secret crush to many of the population of teenage girls. Not that they'd actually date him, he was too much of a social outcast, and he was taken.

Dick was involved with Kori Anders, 16 and a foreign model from somewhere in between western Europe, and far east Asia, nobody was completely sure. Really, she was a beauty, and perfect for modeling. Tall, tan, and jaw dropping gorgeous was the opinion of most of Jump City. She was considered fluent in English, though she didn't seem to get certain phrases or figures of speech, but her friends accepted her for who she was. However it was the quirks in her speech which kept her outside the popular circle, unlike her older sister, Connie.

Another unrightfully cast from the popular circle was Victor Stone, he was 18. Soccer star of Jump High, the 6'2 tall sport star was on his way to a full scholarship to any college he wished, but Victor didn't possess a mean bone in his body. While the popular crowd gossiped and sneered at those 'beneath' them, Vic was sure to stick up for the little man, the underdog. Too kind for the 'in' crowd, but too cool for the outcasts, Gar didn't know why the black giant stayed with them.

Wally West was another sports star at Jump. Part of the track team, the scrawny red head was the fastest boy in school, and had a horrible ego. Cocky, arrogant, and a nerd, the straight A student was total outcast material. He was 17, though he didn't look it. Girls tended to ignore him, and he was often the target of pranks, though he took it all in good spirit, and often got them back. It was a surprise that he had a girlfriend, let alone that he was dating Jinx.

She didn't give out her real name, her friends only knowing her as Jinx, and she let it be known that she was 15. Her hair rumored to be dyed pink (though her friends new better), the pale, petite girl was fond of leather. Black leather dresses, with matching boots and purple leggings was the definition of her closet. She was goth, and had a long criminal record. How she ended up with West was anyone's guess, but she was happy. The two were voted the oddest couple in Jump High, and Jinx was proud of it.

Voted hottest was Roy Harper, only one of them for the company he kept, and for his dating preferences. Harper was a womanizer, and a regular playboy, and still the women went crazy for him. 16, with short orange hair, and an athletic build, Roy was attractive and suave, a dangerous combination when it came to him. But he was a loyal friend, and never went after girls already called for.

Girl's weren't only on his hit list. Harper batted for the other team as well. An example was Garth. Another 'hottie' of Jump, the boy was dark, and mysterious. He drove the girls wilder than Roy ever could, but he wasn't interested. Garth was out of the closet, his reason for being one of them. He had been in a relationship with Roy, but what had happened between them, not even their friends knew.

The only one who didn't seem to belong with them was Tara. She had friends in the inner circles, and still, she stayed with Gar. She was 17, blond, with big blue eyes, and beach bunny skin. She was thin, and beautiful. But she held old habits. She'd snip and sneer at Jinx, the two would often get into fights. She'd make fun of Garth and Roy, and their odd relationship. And though she was helpful with teaching Kori proper English, she would sometimes mock the sweet girl. Though her friends were quick to forgive her little slip-ups, when the blond went too far with her jeers, it was only Gar who stood by her side when the others turned, and it was always Gar who got her to apologize. She would never do it on her own.

But still, Gar loved her. He was forgiving, and the youngest of the group at 15. Blond hair, green eyes. He was the shortest, but that was only because Jinx wore platform boots. Gar was the joker, the little brother, and as Victor would say, the 'annoying, veggie grass stain'.

"Yo, green bean." Gar tunred to find a large hand placed heavily on his shoulder. The hand belonged to Vic, and Logan looked up to find the soccer jock frowning down at him. "Come with me man, we gotta talk." Gar visivbly gulped. He knew just what his best friend wanted to talk about oo. Victor was friends with almost everyone in the school, or at least he tried to be. Stone's connection with Rachel wasn't that large, or well known for that matter, but Logan knew that a sheepishly guilty Grass Stain, and a sulky Rachel wasn't anything good.

Gar nodded silently, slightly ashamed of how he had laughed when he saw the goth girl's mug fly into the air, and the sour expression on her face afterwards. Without a word of protest, Gar allowed his friend to steer him towards the only place anyone could talk in privicy: the boy's bathroom on the east wing.

The bathroom was a wreck. Stall doors were lose on their hinges, and one or two were gone altogether; the sinks were grime covered, and they leaked rusy brown water constantly; the tiles on the floor and ceiling were either cracked or missing, exposing concrete and wireing; and graffeti was on almost every surface. Rachel was accustomed to the disaster around her, in a way she found it comforting, the peace and quiet it offered. Nobody ever entered the boys bathroom on the east wing.

Nearly stomping over to a sink, Rachel let the red, rust filled water fill her cupped hands, and spashed her face. The shock on the cold water on her cheeks, warm from anger, snapped her sense back, and she glanced at herself in the mirror. Jeans baggy, shirt three sizes too big, and a blue, long sleeved shirt too tight, she held a strange attraction. Purple eyes stared back at themselves, and Rachel was glad to see that her cheeks held some colour, and were the slightest shade of rosy, instead of the cold pale that she usually was.

Baggy jeans and a shirt too small. It was a brief summery of what she wore everyday. Kori Anders, a shy but enthusiastic girl from her Biology class, wore desiner clothing (her most notable being a purple miniskirt and a pink leather jacket that should have clashed horribly with her red hair, but some how appeared stunning on her), and Tara was always seen in skinny jeans and black pumps. Oversized hoodies and tattered shoes. Rachel wasn't materialistic. She didn't need clothing or appliences to make herself feel good.

"You should at least say you're sorry, I mean, she looked pretty upset." The sounds of voices the bathroom door swinging open broke Rachel of her thoughts for the third time that day, and Rachel found herself on the bathroom floor in surprise as two boys interruped her privacy. Jumping up, the purple haired teenager wished for her hoodie as she realized how low cut the blue, v-neck shirt of her mother's was, and a faint, rosy blush painted her cheeks once more.

She recognized both boys, and she felt her lips curl into a sneer as she noticed the blond haired boy walking in on her solitude. The boys noticed too, for Vctor stopped in his tracks. Logan noticed a second later, and his eyes widened in his nervousness. Rachel folded her arms across her chest, accidentally reminding everyone how low her top really was, but she reused to drop her arms.

"You can't come in here, bathroom's destroyed." Her tone was flat, and was deprived of emotion. She epected them to turn back, she didn't expext the annoying one to respond.

"You have less acess to this room than us. You're a girl." Rachel was speechless. Her back-talk switch was broken, she couldn't control the quality of her wit.

"Your point?" The purple eyed ice queen kicked herself inwardly for such a weak comeback, but the conversation didn't faulter.

"It's a men's bathroom. See the urinals?" He nodded to the chipped and yellow porcelain sculptures on the walls, and Rachel's sneer deepened.

"What's left of them, yes. But I doubt that you're here to use them, or any other facility in here." She had him, she knew it. He and his friend would turn and leave, and she'd be alone. Why she wanted it so much, Rachel had no idea.

"well... Maybe I'm here to apologize." Victor was flabergasted as he stayed and watched from the sidelines. They were almost talking instead of challenging one another. She wanted him gone, and he was trying to keep his ego in check, but it was like they were playing out an argument, like they were friends. At the mention of apologizing, Victor was sure that Rachel's cold demeanor would warm up, and that she would leave peacefully, instead, she tensed up, and glared at the boy just as tiny as she was.

"Apology denied. Now get out of my way." Her voice was pure ice, and Gar jumped back into the wall as she marched passed. The dark teen yanked the door open, and both boys noticed a small white square fall from her back jean pocket, and down to the ground.

Rachel didn't notice until Gar had leaned down to grap the small piece of paper in his hand, and even then, it was too late to stop him. He had read the small birthday card to Melvin. His emerald eyes moved back and forth, as her amythest ones narrowed in anger.

She moved fast. Her entire body moving forward as she leaned into Logan, and slammed his back into the cement wall behind him. Her left forearm was pressed against his neck and chest, holding him pinned, and her other hand snatched the paper from his. Her lips were dangerously close to Logan's ears as she spoke to him softly.

"Do you have anything to say to me, Logan?" She hissed at him, but he wasn't scared.

"You're a nice person." He choked out, and Rachel snarled. Her hand clenched into a fist, white piece of paper crumbled in her grasp, and she ramed her fist into the blond boy's stomach, leaving him breathless, and pressing againt her forearm, trying to kneal over himself. In a second quick motion, Rachel backed up, and let Gar fall to the ground. Victor watched, utterly speechless. He had never seen Rachel lash out so viciously over something so small and quiet. The soccer jock hadn't heard what the two teens had said to each other, be he had seen the response. Rachel let them be without another word, the bathroom door swung shut loudly.

"You okay man?"

"Yeah." Logan managed to gasp out. "Man, she can pack a punch!" Gar laughed, though it looked painful to do so, and Victor quickly joined him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The front door of the small apartment slammed shut as Rachel entered her home. The lights were out, but she could see the glare of the TV in the living room. Her father was home. With a sneer, the violet haired teenager stormed off to her room.

She knew the drill. Lights out, her father's rear parked in front of the TV. It was the tell-tale signs of a bad day at work. Her father worked at the police station, not that it meant much. He was a cop first, a father second, and he still couldn't catch his own daughter.

"Pathetic." Rachel muttered darkly as she entered her bedroom. She shared a room with her little sister, though Rachel was surprised that they could fit two beds into the small room. The two girls had just managed, and even then, Rachel's books and Melvin's toy box had to be out in the hallway. Throwing her bag onto her own bed, Rachel smiled at her little sister.

Melvin sat on her own bed, headphones almost too big for her on her head. She didn't notice her older sister in the room. Rachel looked at the seven year old, deep in thought. Melvin wasn't like Rachel or their mother. Her hair was blond instead of purple or black, and her bright blue eyes normally stared at everything in wonder. The only thing she seemed to have inherited was their mother's tiny frame. Though Melvin was only skin and bones now, Rachel knew that she would grow to have the willowy body of their mother's. Rachel gave a rare smile. Melvin would be fine when it was her turn for high school.

Rachel looked down at Bobby in her hands. She had managed to fix him up before she had gotten home. He didn't look as good as before, what with his new stitches, but he was still as cuddly as ever. The purple haired teen leaned over and placed her hand on her little sister's knee, trying to gain her attention. Rachel knew why Melvin listened to music before she got home. It was a trick Rachel had taught her long ago, when she and their father started to fight.

Melvin looked up in surprise as Rachel's cold hands touched her knee, the the expression was quickly replaced with one of joy.

"Rae Rae!" The young girl smiled broadly, and flung the headphones from her head. The tiny human cannonball hurled into her big sister, and the two of them fell to the floor, Melvin laughing like a lunatic. "You're home!" The small blond girl hugged Rachel from around her middle, and the older girl smirked in amusement.

"Okay. Calm down." Obedient to her sister, Melvin sat still, or at least she tried to. Her knees twitched and her lips curved into a wide smile. Her long fingers grasped at the pink dress she wore, and Rachel noticed a band-aid on her knee. She'd ask about it later.

"Close your eyes." Rachel commanded, and Melvin obliged as the purple haired teen reached behind her back. Re-stuffing Bobby had been easy. She just hoped that the young girl before her would love him.

"Happy birthday, Mel." Rachel murmured, placing Bobby in her sister's lap. Melvin looked down at the stuffed bear, her eyes wide. Suddenly, she screamed.

"He's _mine_? He's amazing, and _cute_ and-" Melvin screeched as she danced around the tiny room with Bobby in her arms. "_Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!_" Rachel was caught by surprise as her little sister hugged her once more. As she wrapped her arms around her little sister, Rachel's phone vibrated in her jean pocket. With a heavy sigh, the purple haired teen pulled away. Melvin looked up at her with sad, blue eyes. She understood.

"Happy birthday, Mel." Rachel murmured as she stood up. Melvin held Bobby tightly. Without a word, Rachel left her bedroom. She knew who had left her a message, and what he wanted. Michael, more commonly known as Malchior, needed her. Forgetting about her father in the living room, Rachel walked to the front door of the apartment. Big mistake. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, she found herself against the wall, a sharp pain in her upper arm and side. Her father had punched her, his big, meaty fist slamming into both her arm and side in one hit. Holding in a cry of pain, Rachel felt herself slipping down to the floor. She knew that if she wanted to stay conscious, she would have to get on her feet.

"Where the _Hell_ do you think you're going?" Trigon, Rachel's father and chief of police growled at his eldest daughter with malice.

"Out." Rachel snarled back. She wasn't afraid of her father, even though she knew that he could hide her body and get away with it. He controlled Jump, no matter what anyone else believed. She wasn't afraid for herself, she was afraid for Mel.

"Like hell you are, damn witch." Trigon snarled as he grabbed Rachel from the scruff of her neck and held her face down to the ground. Even from the distance she could smell the liquor on his breath. He drank often, making him bitter and angry. And mean. She listened in suppressed panic for the sound of the cocking of his gun. She knew that he wouldn't shoot her, but he would threaten, and sometimes that would be just as bad. The violet haired teen remembered clearly the bruises from being struck with the cold, metal weapon.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as some sort of loud noise was heard, but it wasn't from a gun, it was a crash from her room. Snarling and swearing, Trigon released his daughter from the ground and lumbered over to the girl's room, Rachel following.

It seemed that the small, black and white TV in the room had fallen from its stand, and Melvin stood by it, crying. Trigon's face turned to a nasty shade of red as he started for the small, blond girl. Rachel let out a cry of outrage. Their father never went after Melvin. She was the good child, she barely spoke. Rachel had always made sure that the beatings were for her, every time.

"You little brat!" Trigon roared, and took a step towards the cowering child. At that instant, Rachel snapped.

"Don't you _dare_ touch her!" Rachel shrieked and grabbed her father by his long, silver hair held in a low ponytail. With a clawed yank, she ripped Trigon's head back and practically dragged him into the living room. Malchior would have to wait. Trigon bellowed in surprise and outrage as Rachel, snarling and cursing, dragged her father away from her little sister. Reaching the kitchen, she grasped at the first thing that came to hand. Her father was pulling against her, and he was a whole lot stronger than she was. He would snap her in two like a toothpick. Rachel grabbed fearfully at a soapy frying pan, and swung it at Trigon's head. It hit it's mark, and her father fell to the ground, out cold.

The purple haired teen looked down at the unconscious body of her father. She had stuck him hard with the frying pan, but he wasn't dead. The man had taken many blows to the head before, once being hit with a hammer to the temple and keep on running after his prey. He was a machine, armored and invincible. No matter what Rachel threw at him, he would always come two, more angry and dangerous than before.

Dropping the pan to the ground with a large clang, Rachel hurried to her bedroom. She knew that she didn't have much time until her father woke up. In the bedroom, Melvin stood trembling.

"I-I had to b-b-break the TV. Daddy waaas going to hurt you." The small blond child tried with all her might not to breaking into large sobs, and Rachel hurried forward, and kissed the tiny girl on the forehead.

"You did good, Mel." She whispered, and grabbed the forgotten headphones. Silently, Rachel covered Melvin's ears. "The train's gonna be here really soon." She told her little sister, and Mel nodded in understanding. Rachel turned on the walkmen on the floor. Almost instantly, she could faintly hear music playing in Melvin's ear. Again, the older girl kissed her sister. Melvin watched her, not blinking as the purple haired teen walked over to the steel door separating the bedroom from the rest of the house. She wanted to remember the woman who raised her since their mother's death as well as she could, in case she didn't return. Silently, Rachel pointed to the several large, metal locks bolted to the door. It was a safety precaution Rachel had taken once the beatings had started. The locks weren't for protecting her, they were only for Mel.

Mel nodded, her eyes glassing over with tears. Rachel gave a small smile as she closed the door behind her. She had made Malchior wait long enough, he would be pissed with her. The amethyst eyed girl walked passed the now groaning lump that was her father without a second look, and when she reached the front door, she ran down the hall and out to the street. Inside the run-down apartment, the small, blond haired child listened to the loud music that blocked out all other sounds, and pretended that the pounding in the steel door was really just a train rolling past.

* * *

><p>Gar searched the raging party for his girlfriend. The hundreds of people at his house, dancing on his floor, drinking in his kitchen, and fucking in the three bedrooms (including his own, he thought with distaste) were there for his birthday. He had no idea who half the people in his living room <em>alone<em> were, let alone his whole house. The party was his girlfriend's idea. Tara had invited everyone she knew, and had even paid his parents to take a weekend spa trip. To be honest to himself, Gar was pissed.

The blond jokester was never into big parties, preferring to spend his birthdays with his eight _real_ friends, and his parents. All he wanted was so spend a day with his friends and family, and a night with his girl. According to Tara, that was out of the question.

"What the hell is this?" Gar asked when her had entered his home to find sixty people in his home, in the starting stages of something large. He knew non of them. Tara looked at him, innocence in her blue eyes, and Gar felt a tightness in his chest, he loved her, but she was difficult.

"I wanted to celebrate you're happy fifteenth." She responded simply, and then kissed him on the cheek, making his stomach do back flips. Gar looked doubtfully at the popular students of Jump High. Though most of them kept to themselves (and each other) by dancing, he noticed a few laughing at his family photos and the house decor. Gar told himself that it was nothing to worry about. The party would be over by midnight, and he'd have his friends to hang with. It was then that Tara disappeared.

Not even an hour later, things got out of control. Over three-hundred people were on his property, partying. Some older jocks had brought enough booze to inebriate six bull elephants, and as far as he could tell, everyone was in various forms of wasted. His friends had never shown up. Now pissed, confused, and the only being sober, Gar searched the crowded house for the mischievous blond beauty.

"YO! Garfield!" One of the drunken jocks called him over, and Logan reluctantly complied. He didn't want to talk to them, he didn't want them in his _house_.

"What do you want?" Logan snipped at the nameless jock, and the inebriated man just chuckled.

"Great party, man. Hey, when's your girl comin' back with the booze?" Gar's surprise at the lack of the boy's slurred speech evaporated as a cold anger covered his heart. Tara had left his house, while in the middle of a party that _she_ started, to get liquor for her already wasted friends.

"Forget it, I'm done." Gar sneered, and walked off; away from the drunken sportos; away from the raging, crappy music; and away from his house. He would talk to Tara tomorrow, and spaz at her then. The blond haired teen had no doubt in his mind that when he returned, it would be to a trashed home, with nobody there. Then he would be left to clean his home himself, hopefully before his parents came home.

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, Gar wandered down the deserted street, not caring if cars would hit him or not. He loved Tara, he really did. But sometimes she was too much. Sometimes, she was out of control. The party was just one example of the times that she went too far.

Gar shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he thought to himself. Tomorrow she would show up, just as he was about to finish putting his trashed house back together, bat her big blue eyes at him, and as to go out somewhere. He would act angry about the the night before, and she would shrug off an apology, if only to shut him up. It was the way it worked, the way _they _worked.

Letting a breathe of air escape from his lips, Logan walked down the center of the road, his feet following the thing yellow line that separated the two lanes. Attention on his own thoughts, he never notice the car behind him slow to a stop, or the click as a door opened and the slam as it was shut. In fact, he only noticed that another human being was there, when something hard and blunt hit the back of his head, knocking him to the ground, dazed.

* * *

><p>Rachel raced down the dark, empty street in an old car, still, miraculously, in good shape. At sixteen, she was already highly skilled at the art of grand theft auto. Point out any vehicle to her, and she would tell you it's year, make, and how much it could make in the chop shops of Jump city. She was taught well by the King of theft, Malchior. The twenty-something was something of a legend in the city's underground. He wasn't considered dangerous, like many of the others Rachel had heard about, but it was common knowledge that he supplied many of Jump's serial killers with their goods. The violet haired teenager didn't care. Malchior was a friend, teacher, and employer. Many times he had sent her out on an errand to a certain street or car lot, and every time, Rachel came back with chop shop gold.<p>

The amethyst eyed girl patted the dashboard of the old mustang as she took a left turn down to Malchior's garage. It was in the more run-down part of town, where crime happened often, and Rachel glared in disgust at the decaying buildings and prostitutes that lined the streets. If her father had been there he would be outraged. It seemed that the only things he hated more than thieves were hookers.

Growling at the thought of her father, and his actions mere hours before (how _dare_ he go after Mel?), Rachel took the right turn towards Malchior's garage, and pulled the stolen mustang in slowly. While in her sister's room, the policeman's daughter had gotten an order in for a car, and Rachel grabbed the first good thing she saw. Dark blue and not easily noticed, the car was a car thief's wet dream.

Rachel let herself out of the mustang, and closed the door softly. The night was colder than she expected, and she held her arms closer to her body. She had forgotten to grab a coat when she had left the house, now she was regretting it. Goosebumps rose on her arms, but Rachel ignored them as she knocked on the large, steel door.

Malchior answered almost immediately. His cold blue eyes pierced at her purple, and he tucked a long strand of white hair behind his ear. He was taller than Rachel by far, and his body structure was lanky.

"Raven. You're late." Malchior took a drag from the cigarette in between his fingers as he looked down at the sixteen year old girl at his door. It was a nickname he had for her, saying that she was as dark as the night, and needed a name to justify her. Rachel wasn't bothered by it.

"I know. There was some trouble getting out of the house." The purple haired teen spoke stiffly, and her boss motioned for her to step inside. The garage was always a mess. Old, rusted car parts were everywhere, their owners parked in a line along the edges of the room; house appliances like microwaves, TV's and game stations piled on tables in the room's center; and Rachel knew that Malchior was growing marijuana in the back. He was a petty thief, but good at his job. He was never caught, no matter how careless he seemed.

Without warning, Rachel found herself pressed up against a wall, being kissed roughly by the older man. His mouth was hard against hers, and his tongue, drenched in smoke and tobacco, demanded entrance. The sixteen year old allowed him, and tried to find a comfortable position for herself. When she was little, she thought that kisses were supposed to be soft, and sweet. Caring and sensual. She was wrong. Kissing Malchior was always rough, hard, and left her in bruises. His hands were constantly groping and pinching, and she often found herself pushed against walls or tables. At first she complained at his rough treatment, but he only laughed it off, so she got used to it.

The silver haired man broke off the kiss suddenly by pulling away and slapping Rachel in the face. She wasn't surprised.

"I sent you the message over an hour ago, Raven." He snarled in her ear while he held her close. They had a strange relationship, she knew. He would beat on her, almost as much as her father. But afterwards he would shower her in his hard kisses and bruising touch. She craved his touch, or at least, that's what she told herself.

"Trigon was being a hassle." Rachel spoke stiffly and Malchior smirked, his fingers tracing patterns on her cheek.

"You took care of it?"

"Of course. He was just gaining consciousness when I left." She spoke of her father with pure malice, not bothering to tell of the reason for attacking Trigon. Malchior didn't care about her love for Mel, believing that the small child was a waste of Rachel's time. The gothic teen never argued with him, but she knew that she would never abandon her sister.

"Good girl." He whispered, and instead of a kiss, Malchior pulled Rachel to him and gave her rear a hard grope. She knew what it meant. Her job wasn't done for the night.

"See if you can get another car, babe. Something older than the thing you brought in, but in much better shape. My clients expect top-of-the-notch shit, not the first thing without a car alarm." As he spoke to her, his hand wrapped around Rachel's neck, forcing her chin up to look at him. The purple eyed girl shivered involuntarily at the expression in his eyes.

Rachel swallowed despite the hand slowly closing off her esophagus. Every time she met with Malchior they slept together, and she never got used to it. The first time it had happened she insisted she wasn't ready, that she wanted to wait. He didn't listen. She had screamed at him, cursed at him, and refused him, but he didn't falter. He forced her into submission, throwing her against walls, pulling at her, and punching her. When she was too hurt and exhausted to fight back, he won in the end. Since then, she knew better than to fight. He would win in the end.

"Sure thing." Rachel fought back the objections that rose in her throat. She would do as he asked, and no complaint would she make. Malchior grinned at her, though his eyes remained cold.

"Good girl." He kissed her once more, harder than ever, and nearly shoved her out the door. Rachel stood out in the cold night air, wondering where she was going to go. Malchior wanted an old muscle car, mint condition.

'Lets go ruin someone's night." Rachel sighed and got into the blue mustang she had driven over. Reaching for her cell, she phoned three of the people she knew would help her out.

* * *

><p>Rachel drove down the road, radio off, car silent. Three boys from Jump High sat in the back, quiet and eager. They weren't friends with Rachel, only teenage lackeys of Malchior. None of them had ever stolen a car in their lives, but the purple haired teen could deal with that. She only needed them to keep an eye out for cops, and drive the old mustang back with her to the garage.<p>

The roads were deserted on their way to the richer part of town, where every garage held a hot muscle car, only kept for show. Easy to hot wire, and fast as anything, they were something that Malchior didn't come by often.

Pulling the dark toque lower on her head, as to hide her usual hair better, Rachel looked further out on the road. Someone was walking down the center of the street, along the yellow line that separated the two lanes. they didn't wobble or stray from the line, so Rachel decided that they weren't drunk. As the figure shook their hair, catching the light from the car's headlights, Rachel realized who it was. Slowing the car to a crawl, the gothic teen observed the blond haired boy as he walked down the deserted road. He seemed to be talking to himself, and Rachel felt a familiar rage boil inside her. She remembered him, his laughter in the school cafeteria, and their conversation in the bathroom.

_"He thinks I'm a nice person?"_ Rachel snarled at herself as she pressed her foot hard on the breaks. _"I'll show him how nice I can me."_ She opened the door quickly, and slammed it shut. The boys behind her spoke up in confusion, but she ignored them. Her anger was making her see red, the ability of rational thought was lost to her. The only thing she was aware of was the need to cause the blond boy as much physical harm as possible. Curling her hand into a fist, Rachel swung at Gar's head, her hatred cackling with glee as she made contact, and the blond boy fell to the ground in surprise.

Not waiting for him to speak, Rachel ran her booted foot into his side, the sound of Gar's breath leaving his lungs making her attack more savage.

The boys left forgotten in the car jumped out, and observed the dark teen's malicious attack on the unknown boy. Rachel kicked, screamed, and punched the boy, until she stood still, breathing heavily, holding the boy up by the collar of his shirt. What she said to him was unheard by the three.

"Do you have anything to say to me, Gar?" Rachel muttered, staring into the mutilated face of the blond prankster. His lips and teeth were blooded, his eyes bruised, and his nose was broken, pouring blood down his chin. He looked at her with unfocused eyes as she stood over him, and grinned stupidly.

"You're a... good p-person." He was barely able to speak, and Rachel could see that his ribs were broken, probably even shattered. But his words angered her further, and she pushed him down into the concrete, and kicked him again. This time his body rolled over to the side of road with ever collision of her foot to his body, and in no time he was rolling down into the ditch.

Rachel stared at his still body, her chest heaving, eyes wide. Her body trembled but she ignored it. The three boys she had forgotten ran up beside her, and swore at the sight of the unmoving body.

"Shit Rachel!" The first boy bellowed at her, his hands pulling at his short hair. His eyes were wide and his lips were white. He was terrified.

Swallowing in attempt to wet her throat, Rachel made her way down the ditch. The bottom was made of a small, rocky stream, and though Gar was face down, he wouldn't have been able to drown. Bending down over him, Rachel noticed that he didn't move, not even to breathe. With shaky hands, she fought against clothing to find his neck. The trembling in her body worsened when, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find a pulse. His body, still warm, was motionless.

"You killed him." One of the three boys spoke up, his voice wavering. Rachel looked up at them, her face drained of blood, but her tone emotionless as she muttered.

"Help me move the body."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning's light broke through the woods, and illuminated the dense fog between the old evergreens. Gar walked between the tall cedars and fir trees, trying to find his way out. There was an old park at the edge of town. It was used often for jogging trails and dog walks, the deep woods and winding trails were a great maze, so easy for someone to get lost in them. He walked as though in a dream, his surroundings changing before his very eyes. The fog cleared, the forest ended, he found himself at a long, deserted road.

His mind still cloudy, Gar tried to remember how he had arrived at the old trails, and what he had been doing last night. His memory was static, and nothing came to mind. The events of last night were lost to him. What he did remember was fuzzy. His fifteenth birthday party with strangers; Tara's booze run; and walking down the road, feet following the small, yellow line. After that, all he had was blank.

Logan looked down the paved road with dull eyes, and kept walking. He couldn't think about what he was doing, but his mind was clearing. He found himself in town, early in the morning. As usual, people ignored him as he walked past. An idea clicked in his head, and Gar ran quickly. It was a school night, he needed to get to class.

He didn't remember running into the school building, down the halls, and into the classroom, but there he was in his math class, before his fellow students. They all sat in their desks, ignoring him, facing the board. Not even Victor looked up to him. They all watched the dumpy old woman at the board write down directions for the current math problem. It was common practice for his teacher. Every Monday, a new problem would be on the board, and the students would be timed to see who could get the answer first.

"Sorry Ms. Mae-Eye." Gar rubbed the back of his nervously. Mae-Eye tended to go overboard with punishments if someone dared to interrupt her class. She had a very old-fashioned way of looking at the world, and believed that rudeness and disrespect were the two most despicable things on the planet. But Ms. Mae-Eye never turned around at him, she only continued as though he wasn't there.

"Ms. Mae-Eye?" Gar was confused. Suddenly, Ms. Mae-Eye turned to her class.

"Alright, students. Solve the question on the board. Whoever thinks they've got it and steps up to finish the problem, gets full marks today." Her crackly old voice was curt and clear in the silence of the room. Gar looked at the math problem once, and blurted out the answer.

"42." He was always good at math. The blond boy looked around at his classmates. Their were either staring at the board in concentration, or down at their papers, trying to work it out. None seemed to have heard him, no one looked up.

"Can't anyone tell me the answer?" Ms. Mae-Eye didn't look at him. She only stared over the heads of her students as though they were a thoughtless heard of cattle. Her foot tapped onto the linoleum floor as she tutted.

"The answer's 42." Gar stated loudly. He was confused. Again, nobody looked up at him. Beside him, in front of the chalkboard, Mae-Eye sighed. The foot-tapping stopped.

"The answer is 42. If none of you can figure that out then maybe you should go back to grade nine." She scolded as the blackboard was wiped clean. Gar gawped at her, speechless.

"Are you kidding me? This is a joke, right?" He asked the class, hopeful. They didn't acknowledge him. Gar felt his temper rising.

"Oh real funny. Ha ha." Still no response. A sense of panic was reaching Logan, and the blond boy leaned forward on some girl's desk, his hands grabbing hold of the light wood. "This isn't funny!" Nobody turned to his raised voice. Nobody moved a muscle. To them, it was like he wasn't even there. Gar felt his limbs go numb in fear and told himself that it wasn't happening.

_"Students just don't wake up in the middle of nowhere and become non-existent."_ He thought to himself, feeling his panic in his throat. It was getting hard to swallow.

"Hello?" He called, waving his hands rapidly in front of the unknown girl's eyes. He had seen her in his class every day for the last four months, and still no name came to his mind. "Hello, hello!" She didn't flinch. A hot anger pressed against Gar's heart, and the green eyed boy grabbed the large math textbook from the desk. Without thinking, he flung the blue book over to the shelf on the opposite wall. The resulting crash of breaking wood and disturbed books as they fell to the ground satisfied Gar's anger. Surely now they would stop playing games and acknowledge him.

He was wrong. Nobody turned around, and as he looked down, he saw the blue text book back in his hand. Whipping his head around to the destroyed shelf, Gar was appalled to see it in one piece, books placed neatly, as though he had never let his anger out on it. All around him, a class was going on at normal.

Gar fled the classroom. He fled the building. Something had happened in the woods. He wasn't there, wasn't in existence. He was in some sort of limbo, or worse, he was dead, not _alive_. Now beyond fear, Gar stopped running. He wasn't panting, though he knew he should be. The hair in his lungs came to him easily, and his breathing was even. He was in the middle of a crowded street, nobody paying him any attention. To them, he wasn't even there. Letting the impossibility of the situation sink in, Gar screamed.

* * *

><p>Rachel felt her pulse throughout her entire body. Her eyes throbbed from behind closed lids, and the purple haired teen curled upon herself tighter. She was on her bed, curled up in a ball as she tried to clear her mind, and her conscience. She had killed Gar Logan the night before, and had ran to Malchior.<p>

The dark teen shuddered as the thought of the reaction her boyfriend had given her once she had told him that she left a dead body down near the entrance to the old trails. His cold eyes stared at her, and he had hit her. Not a slap, but a full on punch to her jaw. Rachel had gone sprawling to the floor, her fingers gingerly brought to the stinging pain his fist had brought upon her. Malchior only sneered down at her, and called her an idiot.

_"You're so stupid, Raven! How the fuck could you leave his body there? We have to move it, you know that!."_ Then he had nearly dragged her from her hair to his car. They drove in silence to the park, and when they arrived, he kicked her out of his car. It had taken most of the night, but the two of them had found the body, and moved it. It now lay in the drainage pipe, underground. The body was safe, and nobody would find it.

Rachel gently poked and prodded her sore and bruised jaw. It was the first time Malchior had ever punched her, but it wasn't as bad as her father. He had broken jaws. The purple eyed girl brought her knees closer to her head as she lay on her side. Pressed against her stomach, hidden safely by her legs, she held Bobby. Mel had left him for her when the small blond had gotten ready for school in the morning, and had noticed her older sister, bruised and fighting off tears. That had been a few hours ago. Now Rachel was past tears, and was just filled with guilt.

Without thinking, she got up from bed, and snuck out of the room. The apartment was empty, what with her father at work and her sister at school, and Rachel was quick to grab a few bucks from the cookie jar in the kitchen. It was her father's secret stash of money, that his eldest daughter often helped herself to. It was the family's money, not just his in her opinion.

With about thirty dollars folded into her jean's pocket, Rachel exited the depressing building that she regrettably called home, and set off to the bus stop. She knew where she was going, but she didn't know why she was going to bother. The bus ride would be quick, barely twenty minutes, and then she had maybe a five minute walk. In order to pass the time, Rachel meditated.

It was something that her mother had gotten her started on, and something that Rachel hadn't done since she had died. Her father thought that it was a waste of time, and completely ridiculous. The purple haired teen could remember clearly her father grumbling with annoyance when she and her mother would meditate together in the living room. Trigon would complain that they would distract him from the TV, though how that could be true when they never made a sound was beyond Rachel. When Arella died, her daughter never felt the urge to meditate again, until now.

Sitting on the bus, eyes closed but mind empty, Rachel breathed deeply. With all the noise of the bus, it was hard to concentrate, but she managed. The troubles of her world seemed fickle and meaningless as she calmed herself, and fought for (temporary) inner peace. Practicing the exercises her mother taught her, Rachel expelled all negative thought from her being.

The bus ride ended too quickly for her liking, and Rachel found herself at the more suburban part of town. The yawns were small, and the houses similar to each other. It wasn't the richest part of town, but it was better off than the apartments. Not wanting to bring too much attention to herself, Rachel walked silently down the street, not paying much attention to her surroundings. She knew where to go, and wasn't too worried about getting lost.

Although it was ten in the morning, not a lot of the house occupants were out and about, and for that the violet haired teen was thankful. She knew that she didn't look like she belonged in the neighborhood, and her presence would just raise unwanted questions. It would be just her luck that someone called the police about a possible breaking and entering, and her father would arrive at the scene. Though she wasn't positive that her father would care much that she was missing school, Rachel knew that Trigon loved to keep up appearances. It would be just like him to arrest her, if only to show his co-workers that he was the real deal.

Letting out a low sigh, Rachel sped up her pace. Now she was jogging down the road, past the expensive houses and perfectly mowed lawns. Without a word, she reached the end of the road, and one of the smaller houses on the street. Quickly, Rachel ran up the driveway, and along the house to reach the back yard. Why she was there, and what she expected to gain, she didn't know. Without thinking about what she was doing, Rachel climbed up the drainage pipe along the side of the house, and then through the open window of Garfield Logan's house, and found herself standing in his bedroom.

It was messier than hers, but there was more room. A single bed, a closet of clothes, a colour TV on a wooden stand. Rachel ran her fingers along the bedspread, taking in the appearance of the room. Beside the bed was a wooden shelf, full of objects and nick-knacks. What caught the police chief's daughter was a tin box, filled with photographs. Silently, the purple haired teen grabbed the tin box from the shelf, and sat down on the bed, tin box in her lap.

Grabbing a handful of photos, Rachel flipped through them, pausing to take in every one. The first was of just Gar. From the angle, he was holding the camera in front of himself to take the picture. His face was smiling brightly and Rachel felt a stab of guilt so strong she felt that her stomach might empty it's self that instant. It didn't, she was thankful, but she still felt shaky.

The next one was of Gar and his friends. They had somehow managed to get nine people into the small frame, and Rachel almost smirked at how squashed they all looked. At either end were Victor and Garth. Beside Victor were Jinx and Wally, holding each other tightly, the pink haired goth almost as tall as her boyfriend due to her platform boots. Next to Garth was Roy. The two couples, Kori and Richard, and Gar and Tara were in the center of the group. Kori stood, taller than her boyfriend, with her arms around his shoulders and a dazzling smile on her face. Dick was blushing from behind his sunglasses. Beside them, Gar held onto Tara, his ever present goofy grin plastered onto his face, and holding his girlfriend's hand. Tara looked at Gar with a shy look, her hand holding her arm in self consciousness.

Rachel threw that picture aside like the last one, and glanced down at the third picture in her hand. It wasn't like the others, it was a class photo from grade five. Rachel stared down at the photo, and almost smiled sadly. The first person that jumped out at her was a pink haired girl with matching eyes.

_"She had hair like that even back then."_ Rachel thought to herself as she glanced over the other students in the photo. Kori was the next one to stand out, her hair as long as ever, and wearing a horrid green sweater. Rachel's eyes ran through the mass of students, until they fell on a short, blond haired boy with green eyes. A ten year old Logan grinned back at her through the picture, happy as ever, arms wrapped around a pale girl wearing a gray hoodie.

Rachel's eyes widened in shock as she recognized her fifth-grade self in the photo of Gar's class. Her hair wasn't hidden, and her purple locks were held out of her face by a yellow hair clip. She didn't look at the camera, instead she was glancing over at the exuberant boy beside her, a shy smile on her face. Rachel stared in silence at the ten year old her.

"I was in Gar's class?" She whispered, and shuddered as though someone had stepped over her grave. Looking up, startled, she found no one in sight.

* * *

><p>Gar walked through the throng of faceless beings, his mind numb. He was strangely calm, despite the knowledge that he was dead. He knew that nothing was going to change the fact that he was gone. The anger that he had felt at first was gone, but it would be back, he could feel it. The anger would come in waves. He would be pissed at the world, angry that this had to happen to him when he had everything he ever wanted. He had friends, he had a good family, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who loved him. He had everything he needed, and now it was gone. After the anger, came acceptance, and it was then that he'd calm down, only to have the anger come flowing back, full power. It seemed to be a never ending circle of frustration, and Gar was stuck in the middle.<p>

The blond haired boy breathed deeply as the anger subsided once more, and suddenly an idea hit him like a load of bricks. He was dead, and he'd never see his family his friends again. He was gone from their world, and he never even said goodbye. They didn't even know where his body was. _He_ didn't know where it was.

Gar stopped dead as the thought crossed his mind, and his hands shook as he fought back tears. He could accept being dead. From what he could see it wasn't that scary. But he wasn't ready to put his loved ones through that sort of grief without saying goodbye.

"Wait a minute." The green eyed boy muttered to himself as another thought passed through his mind. The old ghost stories his father used to watched filled his mind. Hauntings and poltergeists forcing the need of a medium to figure out what they wanted. Hardly daring to breath, Logan ran.

It was like moving through a dream. One minute he was outside the school, walking among the throng of daily faceless men and woman going on with their lives, and then, they were gone and replaced with suburban houses on an empty street.

Gar looked around his neighborhood, confused as to how he had traveled so fast. The trip was nothing more than a blur and colour in his mind. Accepting it for what it was, Logan shrugged his shoulders and continued on his road, determined to return home as soon as possible and grab someone's, _anyone's_ attention. His mother or father, or heck, even the _dog_ would do, as long as they acknowledged him. As long as he could get it through to them that he was there. Running up to his house, Gar grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open out of pure habit (he was sure that doors wouldn't hinder him anymore) and sped inside his house.

It was quiet, deathly quiet. Logan crept through his own house, not wanting to disturb the odd silence that seemed to suffocate him. The stairs creaked from under him, but he knew now that it was just his own mind accounting for what he believed _should_ be there, and not what really was. He knew that he was dead, and that dead bodies couldn't make floors creak... or doors open... or books fly at shelves. It was just all in his mind.

Forcing down the despair and grief that was slowly crawling up his throat, Gar tip-toed up the wooden stairs to his parents room. It was a nice staircase, and hall, and house in general. Though the Logan residence was smaller than the other houses on it's lane, but the family did it justice. It was a nice, small house, with enough possessions to keep it from seeming bare and empty, but not enough to be cluttered. Gar loved his house. Trying to collect his emotions, the blond boy tried to ready himself for what he might find, but what he found behind the door of his parent's bedroom left him completely shocked and at a loss.

His mom was crying. Not all out bawling, but in need of a gentle dab to the eyes every once and a while. She laid on her bed, between three boxes of tissues (to empty, and one on it's way) and the corded phone that was placed from it's spot on the nightstand to the bed. Rita Dayton was curled up on herself and facing the yellowing phone as if her life depended on it, her eyes never leaving the small red lights that flashed when the phone rang. Gar felt his heart break at the sight of his adoptive mother. She was always so cheerful and optimistic. To see her so broken down seemed strange. Surreal.

Beside her, Rita's husband Steve stood. He was as silent as ever, but this time it wasn't from his usual stern thoughts. This Steve Dayton was mournful and full of regret. To Logan, it seemed that his adoptive father was at a funeral service, and trying to remember every thing the man in the ground had done in his life. Gar stared at the change in his father in surprise and disbelief. He looked about ready to cry.

"Do you think they will phone soon?" Rita asked, her voice thick with tears as a fresh wave rolled down her cheeks and she placed another sheet of tissue paper to them. Gar flinched as her voice shook.

"Donno I guess. If they find... anything." Steve spoke, but seemed to be at a loss of what to say. At his response, Rita let out a low moan, and her husband bit his lip hard as he tried to fight off the tears that were threatening to break loose.

Gar decided that he had seen enough, and backed away from the room, his body feeling numb. His family had already called the police about his disappearance, and were waiting for their response. It was out of protocol. The cops would only file a missing persons report if said person was missing for twenty four hours unless there was some evidence of foul play.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, Logan headed to his bedroom. He needed to sit down. Walking down the hall, Gar headed towards the east end of the house, to where he had spent most of his time while at home. Once again, he pushed the door open without thinking, and stopped, once more shocked at what he say.

Rachel Roth was on his bed. She was starring at one of the older pictures that he kept, and her eyes were widened in shock. Stepping forwards to look over her shoulder, Gar say that she was entranced by his first grade class photo. Her eyes were glued to two figures in the center. It was she and him when they had been six or so. It was when they had first met, and she had been the new girl at school. Gar could remember being nice to her when she had been so scared. He found her crying in the bathroom after some boys were teasing her about her hair. They did it to Jinx too, but she was confident enough to simply brush it off. Even at six, the girl was tough.

But Rachel, she had cried. She was self conscious at the beginning, shy to those around her. Over the years, her shyness was replaced with a harsh coldness to everyone, and she took to hiding her strange coloured hair underneath hoods and hats. To avoid people from looking at her eyes she ignored all eye contact, and cut off all contact with people. She became secluded, and Gar had felt sorry for her.

The blond boy stared down at the amethyst eyed girl, and a sudden rage filled him. He remembered her. He remembered seeing her face on the night he died, and flashes of a car and pain filled his mind. He remembered a car stopping, and then a sudden attack. Punches and kicks flew at him in a frenzy, and she never uttered a word until the end.

_"Do you have anything to say to me, Gar?"_

_"You're a... good p-person."_

Her rage was demonic as she attacked once more. The second time, she pushed him over to the end of the road with every kick to his ribs, stomach, back or thighs. Her sneakers stung with a dull throb with every hit, and he fell into unconsciousness before he had fallen into the bank. The rest was nothing more than a blank, but the damage had been done. His murderer was right before him, in his room, and looking at a picture at him with guilt clear on her face.

"WELL GOOD!" Gar bellowed, rage eating at him from inside."Feel it Rachel! Know what you did to me! You KILLED me!" He wanted to break things, wreck havoc. He wanted to grab the purple haired girl by the shoulders and shake her until she was dizzy or until her neck broke from the movement. He wanted her to feel his pain and anguish. He wanted her in his position: dead, and unable to return.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her head shot up, and she looked around, but no one was there. In the silence, Gar strained to listen, and was satisfied to her the faint sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor. They weren't light enough to be his father. Faster than he could breath, the door to his room swung open, and Rita Dayton stood in the doorway, her arms by her side, and confusion clear on her face. She didn't know her Rachel was.

"W-who are you? What are you doing here?" Rita asked, her voice still thick from crying. Rachel didn't answer, she fled. Throwing the box of photos away, the pale woman crossed the bedroom in two strides and, grabbing from the top of the window frame, swung herself feet first out of the small opening and fled the house. Without hesitation, Gar followed her, his rage building as he left his room.

In front of him Rachel ran across the rooftop. She was fast, and her feet were clumsy on the slanted roof, but she didn't fall. When she reached the end of the house, she jumped down to the ground. She landed on the lawn, the grass softening her fall, but Gar could tell that the drop had hurt her. When she ran off once more, she was slower, and her left foot was clearly hindering her. The boy followed after her, and didn't fell the fall as he landed hard on the grass and sped after her. Risking a quick look behind him, Gar noticed his mother looking out from the window, and felt a deep guilt at leaving her, but he wanted answers. Turning his back on his home, Gar followed Rachel down the street.


	4. Chapter 4

Severe language warning, readers be warned. Song lyrics are from Your Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

I updated it (2014-08-23) to fix some of the spelling errors, and to fix Trigon's dialog. I didn't find his swearing to be natural, and it just sounded too silly now that I've read it again.

* * *

><p>By the time she got home it was nearing nighttime, and she was exhausted. Rachel unlocked the door to her crappy apartment, her body worn from the rush of adrenaline she experienced from running from Garfield's mother. Despite all that, she still felt guilty.<p>

"_And you should." _A cruel voice in her head murmured, and Rachel cringed. She didn't know why she bothered to go to Gar's house, or why she thought it would help. Her guilt was as strong as ever, if not more so.

Closing the door behind her, Rachel was glad to see that her dad wasn't home yet, and her sister was still at her after-school day care. Mel would be picked up when Trigon got home... if he remembered. With a low sigh, Raven went to her room. The tv was still broken from when Mel had dropped it, but she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it quite yet. Mind still numb, the violet haired teen dropped her grey hoodie off on the bed before turning into the kitchen and cracking open one of her father's beers, not caring if he'd notice. She had only taken a sip when the front door knocked. Putting the can down, Rachel walked slowly to the door. She didn't know anyone who would stop by; her father didn't have visitors, and the landlord had given up coming to them about complains of violence long ago.

"_Gar just died, and everyone thinks he's missing. What if Victor told the cops about Gar and I in the bathroom?" _Rachel thought morbidly as she moved to open the door. Taking a deep breath, the dark young woman swung the metal door open, and came face to face with a surprise. It wasn't a cop, but it was close enough: Dick Grayson.

He was a friend of Logan's, and the son of a detective. Rachel remembered her father ranting about a detective Grayson almost every night, sticking his nose in places where it didn't belong. Trigon was a bought out cop, and Mr. Grayson knew it, but he would never catch Trigon. Her father was too good at what he did, and Grayson stuck too close to the rule book. The old detective was out of his league.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel questioned, her voice as monotone as ever. Dick's expression was unreadable from behind his sunglasses, his arms crossed over his chest. If he seemed discouraged by her less-than lively greeting, he didn't show it; the dark-haired teen was familiar with her icy tone, and took no offense.

"Just thought I'd stop by. How're you and your dad doing?" Dick questioned, and Rachel nearly snarled. When she was little, and Mel was still in diapers, her mother had been close to the Grayson family. She and Dick had grown up together, and when her mother had died, his father had offered his help to them. Rachel could remember his face, and his concern, but Trigon had intervened. Rachel hadn't talked to anyone from the Grayson family since, preferring to keep the detective's son out of her family's business.

"The usual. He yells, I ignore him. Why are you here?" Her voice was like ice, and she was in no mood for games. Catching onto this, Dick cut to the chase.

"Gar's gone missing. Wondered if you've seen him." Even from behind his glasses, Rachel could feel his cold gaze, but she shrugged it off. His stares were only a pathetic imitation to hers, and she would not be intimidated.

"Why would I have?" Rachel crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame.

"Victor said you guys had a little run in. Maybe I was curious?"

"Maybe your curiosity should mind its own business?"

She was pushing her boundaries, and she knew it, but she couldn't stop. It was too soon for this, and she was unprepared for an onslaught of questions from a wannabe detective. Without another word, Rachel turned to leave, but was stopped by a firm grip on her arm, pulling her back. Suddenly Rachel found herself facing eyes of cool grey, her back being slammed into the wall by an angry Dick Grayson.

"Enough of your bullshit, Rachel. Gar's missing, and I know you had something to do with it. Nobody's seen him since last night, and his mom saw you in his room. You were seen, Rachel!" Dick growled, his fingers digging painfully into her arms, but Rachel only glared, emotion clear from her face. For what seemed like ages they stared at each other, their will never wavering.

Gar watched as his best friend and his enemy stared at each other in silence. He had followed Rachel all across town, his rage never subsiding.

"Beat it, Grayson. My father's going to be home soon, and he won't like to see you knocking on his door." Rachel snapped back, and pushed Dick away from her.

"What did you do to Gar, Rachel?" Dick glared at the gothic teen, his lips curing in his anger as the door was slammed in his face.

Body shaking in rage, the purple eyed woman marched back to the kitchen, and dumped the whole can of beer down the sink. Logan followed her, a sneer clear on his face.

"What did you do to me, Rachel? Did you hear that? He knows." Rachel sat down at the kitchen table and Gar stood across from her, leaning on the table so that his head was level to hers. "He knows, Rachel. His dad's a detective, and they're gonna catch you." Logan spat at the older teen, his hatred bubbling over the surface. In a temper, Gar flipped the table, his mind momentarily forming the image of Rachel thrown to the ground, her mouth bleeding from where her teeth gnashed into her lips, the table crashing into the fridge and kitchen sink. A second later, the kitchen was back to normal, and Rachel was back sitting at the table, her face paler than normal, and a far away look in her eyes.

Breathing heavily, Logan calmed down. He couldn't really hurt her. His mind would only show him what it thought should be happening, but in the end, he was invisible, and non-existent. With a depressed sigh, Gar lowered himself into the seat across Rachel, his body slumped in defeat.

He jumped in surprise when he heard a small sob coming from opposite him. Looking up in bewilderment, Gar saw that Rachel was hunched over the table, her head cradled in her hands. Her body shook with every small sob, and the blond boy felt his heart wretch painfully at the pitiful figure before him.

"Oh God, Gar. I'm so sorry." Her voice was muffled by her hands and tears, but Logan still heard her clearly. After several more whimpers, Rachel raised her head from her hands, and Gar was surprised to see such a disheveled appearance. Her hair was a monstrosity, violet strands in every direction; her eyes were puffy and red; and her body shook with every breath. Despite his anger, Gar felt pity towards her. With a discouraged sigh, Gar moved to place his hand over hers, not knowing what good it would do, when the front door swung open.

Quicker than Logan could blink, Rachel stood up from the table, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, trying to remove any trace of her tears. A small smile was placed on her lips as a young girl, no older than seven entered the rundown apartment.

Gar stared at the stark differences the two girls possessed. Where Rachel was dark and cold, with skin so pale it looked grey, and purple eyes, the young girl was blonde, and bright with eyes of blue. In one hand she dragged a pink backpack; in the other she held a badly-sewn teddy bear.

"Hey Mel, how was school today?" Rachel asked softly, and Gar marveled at the change in her. Her face no longer held a scowl, and her eyes seem to brighten with every word. Without a word, the blonde child dragged her pick backpack along the ground, and lifted it up onto the table.

"It was okay. Daddy was mad this morning." Mel mumbled, her eyes downcast, avoiding Rachel's. Gar looked over to the violet haired teen, and watched as her lips thinned, and her eyes flashed, suddenly washing over the younger child, searching for any sign of mistreatment.

"He just yelled?" Rachel asked, her tone icy, and with a silent nod, Mel broke down.

"I want Mama."

Gar watched as Mel cried, and the older teen silently moved, so that the younger sister could crawl into her lap for comfort. Rachel held the blonde girl close so that her face nuzzled her neck, and the gothic teen could soothe and comfort her.

"I know. I do too." Rachel whispered softly into Mel's ear, her cold hands rubbing small circles on the girl's back as she cried, oblivious to the spectral teen watching them.

The blond boy watched in amazement as the girl who killed him soothed and protected the young girl. He could see how her hands trembled as she held the crying girl. Her eyes flashed with a familiar rage, but her voice remained calm and soft as she murmured sweet comforts into the child's ear. Rachel was acting almost motherly.

The scene was ruined as the front door opened with a bang, and the reeking stench of liquor entered the small apartment. Mel's face paled as she rested in Rachel's arms, and the gothic teen lightly kissed her cheek before ushering her to her room.

"Lock the door." Logan heard her whisper as the blonde seven year old bolted from the kitchen. A moment later a heavy click was heard as a door was locked.

Hearing the sound, the biggest man Gar had ever seen stumbled into the room. The veins in his face were broken and burst from years of drinking, giving him a red complexion; his eyes were yellowed from drug abuse; and his hair was long and white, tied behind his head in a pony tail. The moment he saw the red giant, Gar felt the need to step back, run, and find a safe place to hide from his glare, but Rachel stood her ground. Without fear, the amethyst eyed woman turned her back on her father to start dinner.

"So you're back, are ya? " Trigon belched at his daughter before sitting down at his usual chair in front of the tv. Rachel didn't say a word as she began boiling water.

"You gonna burn dinner again? What's a damn useless thing of a daughter like you worth if you can't even make a decent meal." Trigon spat out as he flipped through the channels on the old, rundown tv. "Grab me a beer."

Logan watched in horror and amazement as Rachel opened the fridge and brought an entire six pack to the man without question before turning back to chop carrots. The red man took a long drink from the can, and threw the empty container at his daughter. Rachel flinched only slightly as the beer can bounced off her back.

"Don't think I don't know what you've been doing. Damn stupid girl." Trigon bellowed from the living room, his eyes never leaving the tv screen. Gar watched Rachel with wide eyes as her hands started to shake. He had never witnessed anything like that before. His adoptive parents had never treated him with anything but love. The blonde boy could remember clearly the times Steve had yelled at him for being too immature, but it was never anything like this. What Rachel had to deal with everyday was just pure abuse. The invisible boy was brought out of his inner thoughts by Trigon's voice.

"Just like your damn mother. That whore left you, and the other damn brat. You're just like her, and I'm sure that little brat's gonna be like her too. Selling her damn body around town." Trigon raged, his drunken mind lost in the past. Rachel trembled as she cooked, tears glistening in her eyes but never falling. The monster of a father finished two more beers, and threw the cans at his daughter. They both missed their mark, one hitting the fridge, the other the ceiling fan.

"Pick that up." Trigon grumbled as he turned his attention back to the TV. Rachel didn't move, her mind concentrating on keeping her anger in check, she never heard him. With a roar of rage, Trigon jumped up from the worn out couch, and lunged at Rachel. Grabbing a fistful of violet hair, the red man bent Rachel's head back so that she could look at him. Gar watched, his stomach sick.

"Get your hands off me." Rachel spat at her father, her tears gone, replaced with a similar rage that filled Trigon. With a drunken snarl Trigon flung his daughter across the room, her body colliding painfully with the kitchen table, before she rolled over it and fell to the floor. Gar ran over to her, unable to help. He couldn't touch her, and she was in danger.

Struggling to get up, Trigon strode over to his daughter's beaten form, and gave her side a swift kick. The blonde boy jumped back in surprise, his back reaching the wall, and he slid down to the floor, his eyes wide in fear for his murderer.

"Get up, ya damn witch." Trigon roared at Rachel, giving her ribs another kick. The purple eyed teen winced at the pain, but began to stand up, nevertheless. Growing inpatient, Rachel's father grabbed her by the hair once more, and yanked her up. Rachel grimaced at the pain, but didn't say anything more; she was subdued. Nodding at his daughter's new behavior, Trigon moved to throw her across the room once more, when a loud shriek cut through the air.

Gar looked over to the noise, surprise temporarily covering his horror at the scene before him. In the middle of the hallway Mel stood, a nearly destroyed teddy bear held close to her body. She stared at her father, her eyes full of fear and Trigon lost control.

"What do ya want?" The large man bellowed, his hands tightening their grip on Rachel's hair. "You want the same as her? Huh!" Trigon snarled. He dropped Rachel, and stepped towards Mel.

"NO!" Both Rachel and Logan screamed as the demon of a man charged towards Mel and grabbed her painfully by the arm. Mel screamed in pain, and Trigon moved to hit her, but was stopped. Something shattered on the wall beside Trigon's head, and the demon man turned to see Rachel holding two more glasses.

"Let her go!" Rachel screamed, her entire body trembling from her rage as she threw another glass. With a dark look, Trigon dropped Mel, who scrambled out of the way, face streaming with tears. Rachel's father took a step towards her, but she was ready. As he lunged, she pitched the last mug at him, and the and the cheap glass shattered in his face. The large man was slowed, but not stopped. With another cry of rage, Trigon threw a fisted punch towards the risisting Rachel. Acting quickly, the violet haired woman doged, and the beastial man in his drunken rage ran himself into the cement and tile wall of the kitchen, knocking him out cold.

Gar looked at the beast of a man, his body slumped against the wall, and a large gash bleeding profusely on his head. Not giving a second look towards her father, Rachel ran towards the bedroom, and Gar followed. Locking the door as quickly as she could, Rachel then turned her attention on her little sister. Mel ran to the older girl's arms, and cried, her tiny body jolting with every sob. Desperately, Rachel held her, her body bent over the child's; protecting her. Logan watched the two girls silently. He could have never imagined what the amethyst eyed girl was dealing with when there was no one to see. Body heavy, Gar knelt beside Rachel, his hand placed gently on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Rachel."

Rachel curled up against Mel, her arm wrapped protectively against the smaller girl's figure. They were sharing the older teen's bed since Mel was too afraid to sleep alone, and Rachel couldn't agree more. Lifting her body up only slightly, Rachel was able to see that the blond child was finally asleep. With a small smile, Rachel moved several strands of yellow hair from Mel's face, before curling up closer to the young girl. Since their mother had left them, Rachel had become Mel's mother; feeding her, dressing her, and most importantly, protecting her.

"I promise, Mel. I will always protect you." Rachel murmured into her younger sister's ear before laying back on the bed.

_"I will never let you fall_

_I'll stand up with you forever_

_I'll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven."_

Gar watched as Rachel sang softly to the sleeping child. Her voice wasn't angelic, or even that good, for that matter, but the words that she sang touched deep. The invisible boy curled up by himself of the smaller bed, belonging to Mel. He was in a state of inner conflict. One the one hand, Rachel had killed him. He was away from his friends and family, and he knew that they would never see him again.

But Rachel was suffering too. Every day she had to fight to survive, and protect her only family left. Staring at the troubled teen, Gar realized how peaceful she looked as she drifted to sleep. Her face lacked the annoyance that was normally so clear on her face, and for once her lips were not sneering. Distantly, the word beautiful popped into Gar's mind, but he never noticed. Steadily falling to sleep, only one thought floated through his head.

"I promise, Rachel. I'll help you get through this."


End file.
